I think I love you better now
by Brittana4rever
Summary: Santana's parents send her off to a special camp for a year to 'fix' her. How can she survive without Brittany, especially when a new romance threatens to destroy everything?
1. Summer after Highschool

_**Yes, I will randomly name chapters after song lyrics. Deal with it.**_

Santana glanced at Brittany through her thick, dark curtain of hair. The blonde was looking straight ahead, blue eyes unreadable. Santanna bit back a sob. She didn't want to be sad if Brittany wasn't sad. Santanna returned her eyes to the daisy chain in her hand.

She tried to make a hole in the daisy stem with her finger, but her nails were short and rounded and her hands were shaking, and Santana accidently ripped it. Brittany looked over at the daisy for a moment. She suddenly looked sad; not for herself, but for the flower, beautiful and delicate and broken. Santana tossed the flower aside and picked another.

She succeeded this time, and she tucked the daisy into the long chain, then made another loop and closed the chain. She motioned to Brittany, and Brittany shook back her long blonde hair and let Santana slip the chain over her head. Brittany bit her lip and smiled shyly at Santana. "How do I look?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Beautiful." Santana said, and then she was crying, and Brittany was crying, and she reached out and pulled the blonde close to her. Brittany sobbed into Santana's shirt, and Santana felt warm tears soak through the silk. Santana tried to supress her sobs, but they bubbled out of her in small, primitive noises. She'd never felt anything like this before; such pure, complete sadness, it was almost ecstacy.

Everything was slipping apart at the seams, and Brittany was the only thing she had left to hold on to, and so she held on to her as tightly as she could as the world spun around her.

She didn't know how long they stayed there, but after their sobs had died down, and when Brittany raised her tearstained face from Santana's chest, she looked Santana directly in the eye and said, without a hint of a quiver in her voice, "Santana, don't let them break you. No matter what they do, don't let them break you. And don't you _ever,_ ever forget me."

Santana dissolved into tears again, but Brittany put her hand under Santana's chin to tilt her face upwards and silence her crying with a kiss, and then another.

When Santana's mother came down the two steps into the garden, dragging Santana's huge suitcase, stuffed with all her worldly possesions, and stood there looking down at them with tight lips set in a smile, Santana didn't even look up at her. She was beyond being mad at her. She was beyond forgiving. Instead, she turned to Brittany and kissed her one more time, then tucked a flower behind her ear.

Santana's mother cleared her throat. "Mi querida, your plane's leaving in an hour. We have to go."

_My darling._ Santana thought. _Empty words. If I'm your darling, why are you sending me away? To fix me? I'm not broken. I was never broken._

But she stood obediently, and Brittany stood too. All of a sudden it hit her. These were her final moments with Brittany, for at least a year, maybe more. She wanted to make them count.

She hugged Brittany tightly, pressing her face to Britt's shoulder, inhaling her summery scent. "I love you." she whispered, quietly, so only Brit could hear. "I love you too." And then Brittany let her go, and Santana took hold of her suitcase, and she walked down the path, and then the sidewalk, to her car. And when she looked back one more time, Brittany was standing in the same spot, staring after her. "Goodbye." Santana mouthed, and slipped into the car.

She was quiet on the way to the airport. She didn't cry, and she didn't scream or shout at her mother or her father. It was what it was, and she was who she was. She took Brittany's advice and tucked it into a secret corner of her heart, for her alone.

_Don't let them break you._

_And don't you ever, ever forget me._

Santanna smiled.

_Don't worry, Brit. I won't._


	2. Redhead Walking

The harsh ring of an alarm bell started Santana out of a deep sleep. She moaned and squinted at her little traveling alarm clock, sitting on her night table. 7:40. Damn, what could possibly be so important that she had to get up at 7:40 for it?

Muttering darkly under her breath, Santanna stumbled into the little shower to wash and condition her long dark hair, then wrapped herself in a towel and climbed out to do her morning routine; brush hair, stare at self loathingly in mirror for five minutes, straighten hair, curl hair, put hair up in a ponytail, makeup, stare at self in adoration for ten minutes, get dressed.

She was halfway through pulling her jeans up her thighs when she heard a cough from the door. She looked up to see a petite girl with a mane of coppery hair standing in the doorframe.

Santana hastily yanked her jeans up and glared at the girl, who was standing with a mixture of shock and confusion crossing her face. "I-I'm so sorry." She stuttered, blushing. "B-b-but this is cabin 14, isn't it?"

Santana snarled. Her mother had, very precisely, specified NO ROOMATES in her application form. What the hell was this chick doing in her little sanctuary? "Yes." Santana spit reluctantly, injecting as much hostility as she could into the words.

"Sorry." The girl repeated, shrugging helplessly. "But I got assigned cabin 14." She walked cautiously across the floor, as if she might trigger a land mine, and perched on the bed next to Santana.

Santana wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't just send the girl back out to face those godawful counselors, could she? No, even she wouldn't be that cruel. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and said "I'm Santana."

"Lena." The girl blinked up at Santana with huge, scared green eyes. Oh, jeez.

"Whereyoufrom?" Santana muttered reluctantly.

"California." Lena drew up her legs and rested her chin on her knees so that a river of copper-colored hair spilled over them. She had pale skin sparsely scattered with freckles, and she was at least a head shorter than Santana, if not more. She was wearing a sheer white minidress that accentuated both smallness and paleness, but for that she didn't look unhealthy. She had very musuclar arms and legs. "I'm a dancer." She added as an afterthought.

Santana nodded; processing this information. Alright. "So, why are you here, Lena from California?" She snarked, not quite sure if she liked the girl, or if she wanted to make her cry.

"Same reason you're here." Lena shot back. "Same reason most of us are here. To get fixed."

Santana swallowed. She was out of smart-ass things to say.

"Come on, little one." She found herself standing up and holding out a hand to the tiny girl. "Let's go get some breakfast."

Breakfast was serve buffet style. Santana knew this because in the brochure for the camp, which her mother had presented to her meekly, as if she were scared Santana might bite her head off, one of the bold-text captions had announced "HEALTHY BUFFET-STYLE BREAKFAST SERVED EVERY MORNING." Santana had to keep reminding herself that this wasn't a normal summer camp.

As they walked, she filled Lena in on the schedule.

"And we have bible readings after dinner, and then lights out at eleven."

Santana concluded as they crossed the threshold into the huge dining room. People were milling around carrying trays, and the clink of metal pots and the shouts of the cooks rung out from the kitchen.

Lena took Santanas hand as they navigated their way through the talking, laughing crowd. Santana flinched, but she couldn't bring herself to pull her hand out of Lena's grasp. Her fingers were as light and delicate as butterflies.

When they reached the breakfast table Santana whistled. Rows and rows of plates were laid out on the long, buffet-style table. She grabbed a plate and handed one to Lena, and they worked their way down the line, stopping occasionally to add something to the growing selection on their plates.

"Where do they get off, calling this healthy?" Lena asked around a mouthful of crossaint. "I'd never be able to eat this at home." She added as an afterthought.

Santana snorted. "What, do your parents monitor your diet or something?"

"Pretty much." There was no sarcasm in Lena's voice.

Santana grabbed a danish from her plate and plonked it onto Lena's, grnning for what seemed like the first time in months. "Then eat up now. After the first week, we get bread and water."


	3. Songbird

Lena was crying again, like she'd been doing every night for the past week. Santana turned over to lie on the cool side of her pillow, trying to ignore the soft noises coming from the bunk beneath her.

In the past week, they had discovered that the 'camp' wasn't quite as fun and organic as they claimed to be.

Sure, there were the normal camp-type of things to do. Cabins and bunks, a tight schedule that started with breakfast at 8 and ended with campfire time at ten.

However, Santana was pretty confident that at a regular camp, campfire songs would be sung. Not here. Instead, every night, they were treated to a new graphic story about the crimes commited by gay and lesbian perpetrators.

Tonight's had been the lovely story of the two men who'd abducted a 12-year-old boy and used him as a sex slave before finally killing him by suffocating him with a pillow, and then proceeding to abuse his dead body.

And this was just the 'summer' portion. In two months, they'd have to take a bus up to a boarding school in the mountains, and then, though Santana's mother had only mentioned it once, 'stricter measures would be enforced', which she took to mean that the real hell would start.

Santana could sort of understand why Lena was crying, but it wasn't helping to take her mind off of things. She shifted again on her pillow to find a cooler spot and began to sing softly over the noise of Lena's sobs.

_For you, there'll be no more crying_

_For you, the sun will be shining_

_And I feel that when I'm with you_

_It's alright, I know it's right_

Lena's crying quieted, and Santana raised her voice slightly so that it lifted to the ceiling and filled the room, with something other than sadness.

_To you, I'll give the world_

_To you, I'll never be cold_

_'Cause I feel that when I'm with you_

_It's alright, I know it's right_

The crying stopped entirely, and Santana heard a rustling noise underneath her as Lena turned over under the stiff sheets.

_And the songbirds are singing now_

_Like they know the score_

_And I love you, I love you, I love you_

_Like never before_

A tear trickled from Santana's eye and trailed down to her hairline, leaving a cold path behind. She thought of Brittany, beautiful Brittany, innocent Brittany, Brittany who could make her forget everything and just _be. _Brittany who she loved, and Brittany who she missed.

_And I wish you all the love in the world_

_But most of all, I wish it for myself_

It was an oddly intimate feeling, to be singing this song, if not exactly to Lena, then definitely for her. She'd only ever sung for Brittany like this before.

_And the songbirds keep singing_

_Like they know the score_

_And I love you, I love you, I love you_

_Like never before, like never before..._

A pale hand appeared over the edge of the bed, and, without thinking, Santana took it. She cried quietly there, on a bed that wasn't hers, in a cabin at a campsite full of strangers and people who were quick to hate her, in a place far, far from home. As her eyelids grew heavy with sleep, she clung tightly to Lena's hand, as if it were a lifeline.


	4. I Kissed a Girl

Santana had hatched a plan.

On Sundays, they had 'enrichment activities'. This week's activity was a talent show of sorts, and everyone was invited to sing a song or recite a poem, as if this were a normal camp.

Of course, Santana knew what they wanted. Good clean Christian-type songs. Choir hymns. But what Santana had in mind wasn't exactly The Lord is my Shepherd.

On Saturday night, she sat up for hours with Lena, going over and over the details of their plan, giggling and wondering out loud if this was an insane idea, and if they were really going to go through with it (Yes and Yes.)

The plan, combined with a new letter from Brittany, was the only thing that kept Santana going through Sunday bible reading, analysis and the daily horror story report, but she just managed to keep a cool smile on her face the whole day. Every time she thought she was about to snap, she recalled Brittany's parting words to her. "Don't ever let them break you, San."

After campfire, everyone huddled on the huge, cold floor of the auditorium. Santana pulled Lena with her to sit with a group of kids that consisted of a pretty, sullen-faced black girl with long hair trailing down her back, a fair-haired, fair-skinned girl who reminded Santana of a fairie, and a gorgeous, fine-boned boy with a shock of dark hair and wide blue eyes. While the head of staff tested the microphone, sending a squeal of feedback over them that made them wince, Santana introduced herself and learned some names.

The black girl was Sara, the fairie-looking girl was Iris, and the beautiful boy was Bill. They talked for a while, but Santana was too absorbed in her excitement to do much but nod distractedly.

She noticed that Lena looked a bit peaked, so she reach over and took her hand. Something in the girl's eyes reminded her of Brittany. The same innocence, and the same fear. Santana felt a weird sort of electric shock go through her, and she dropped Lena's hand quickly.

After the mic had been tested and adjusted, the performances started. The first performers, two bony blonde girls, maybe twins, sang a sticky-sweet rendition of a song from Rent. They weren't very good, but the staff applauded gratefully at the completely innocent rendition.

The following performances were just as bland; a few hymns, and one version of Burning Love that had the staff raising their eyebrows. As she eyed their reactions to the mild innuendo, Santana had to smother her giggles. Boy, were they going to get a surprise.

Finally, just as she was starting to get heavy-eyed, she heard her name being called, and then Lena's. She pulled Lena to her feet and brushed off her gauzy maxi dress. She was decked out in full boho style-her hair rippled down her back in soft waves, pushed back by a python headband. Lena matched her to the tee. The staff looked pleasantly expectant.

Santana slipped a cd into the cassete player, pushed 'play' and faced the crowd, swaying softly from one foot to the other as the player booted up.

Then, in one fluid movement, she and Lena pulled off the flowing dresses and tossed them aside, revealing skintight leather shorts and black tank tops, cut as low in the front as you could go and still call it a shirt. A cheer rose from the previously subdued crowd, and a few people whistled.

Santana glanced over at the staff long enough to register their shell-shocked faces with satisfaction, and then she immersed herself fully in the music.

_This was never the way I planned_

_Not my intention_

_I got so brave, drink in hand_

_Lost my discretion_

She walked slowly toward Lena, her hips swaying with every move, full of exaggerated sexiness.

_It's not what, I'm used to_

_Just, wanna try you on_

_I'm curious for you_

_Caught my attention_

They edged closer to eachother and started their synchronized routine. Slowly at first, faster and faster as their built up to the chorus.

_I kissed a girl and I liked it_

_The taste of her cherry chapstick_

_I kissed a girl, just to try it_

_I hope my boyfriend don't mind it_

_It felt so wrong, it felt so right_

_Don't mean I'm in love tonight_

The auditorium was in chaos. Every swivel, every hip thrust, brought a wave of cheers from the crowd. Somewhere during the chorus the headbands came off. Santana was completely under the spell of the song, the beat, the overwhelming support. She wrapped her arms around Lena's waist and they moved in unison.

_No, I don't even know your name_

_It doesn't matter_

_You're my experimental game_

_Just human nature_

_It's not what, good girls do_

_Not, how they should behave_

On that lyric, Santana turned to the counselors, who were still standing as if frozen, and winked. It just too perfect to be real.

_My head gets, so confused_

_Hard to obey_

_I kissed a girl and I liked it_

_The taste of her cherry chapstick_

_I kissed a girl just to try it_

_I hope my boyfriend don't mind it_

_It felt so wrong, It felt so right_

_Don't mean I'm in in love tonight_

_I kissed a girl and I liked it_

_I liked it_

It was time for phase 2. of their plan. While Santana kept up a strong vocal, Lena shimmied her way up to the edge of the crowd and reached out her hands to Sara and Iris, pulling them to their feet. They immdediately joined Santana, singing off-key and dancing wildly. Santana made a 'come-on' gesture to everyone, and suddenly everyone was on their feet, clapping or singing along or dancing.

Voices rose in a tuneless cacophony, people shouted and whooped and clapped.

_Us girls we are so magical_

_Soft skin, full lips, so kissable_

_Hard to resist to touchable_

_Too good to_

_Deny it_

_Ain't no big deal it's innocent_

Santana was oddly reminded of glee club as she raised her voice an octave higher to draw out the note. Mr. Schu, lame thought he was, always had the power to get everyone on their feet, forgetting their troubles, at least for a song or two.

Pushing away the thought, she grabbed Lena's hand and spun her around before dipping her down to the ground, marveling at how light she was.

_I kissed a girl and I liked it_

_The taste of her cherry chapstick_

_I kissed a girl, just to try it_

_I hope my boyfriend don't mind it_

_It felt so wrong_

_It felt so right_

_Don't mean I'm in love tonight_

_I kissed a girl and I liked it_

_I liked it_

As the song finished and everyone erupted into applause, Lena placed her hands on Santana's shoulders, pushed herself up onto tiptoe, and kissed Santana lightly on the mouth. Everything froze around her, and Santana's arms snaked around the girl's tiny waist before she had to think of what the hell she was doing.

Suddenly there was a pop and a hiss. All the lights in the auditorium flashed once and went out, and that they were surrounded by blackness.

**I know what you're thinking, but don't worry. Breaking up Brittana won't be _that _easy.**


	5. A Call to Prayer

Weeks dragged by at a tortuously slow pace. After the high of her enlightenment had worn off, though she still felt a shock of joy every time she remembered it, things still sort of sucked for Santana. The only thing she had to look forward to were the letters from Brittany, which were torn open and screened first to make sure none of the content was explicit. Santana was sure the camp would ban the letters entirely if they could, but some law about freedom of speech and censorship forbade it.

Santana's fingers were actually trembling as she re-opened the clumsily sealed envelope, which was postmarked from France. She read out loud in a whisper, a smile forming on her face as she looked at the first letters of Brittany's elaborate, loopy script that she insisted was cursive.

Dear Sannie,

Hey! Remember me! Guess who I am. I'll give you three hints. 1. I'm fluffy. 2. I'm pretty. 3. I love to dance.

That's right! This is Lord Tubbington speaking! I'm wryting this letter because Brittany can't find her pen but she wants you to know that she loves you too. She told me to tell you that she feels lonely without you at home, and she misess getting her sweet lady kisses on with you, and also she hasn't told anyone about you two except Kurt and Mercedes and Quinn and Puck and Mike and Tina and all those other people. She wants to know when you're going to come back home, becuse she can't figure out how to hook her bra in the back and she can't ask anyone else except you or she mite look stupid. She says that it's really cold in France {oh yeah, she also wanted to say that she's in France.} but they have good crossaints and hot chocolate and nice tour guides who look at you funny for some reason when you ask to see the effeuilleuse tower. Also, she wants you to know the facts she's learned so far from the fact calendar that she's using to count down the days you've been away.

1. Fish can cough.

2. If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would have prudooced enouf sound energy to heat one cup of coffee.

3. Cats sleep 16 to 18 hours per day. {Exept not me, I sleep more than that.}

4. Monday is the preffered day for suicyde. )':

5. Finchel isn't actually a bird, it's the name people use for Finn and Rachel. {That one wasn't actualy from the calendar, thouhg.}

{Sorry, she forgot what goes between here.}

123. Noodles aren't actualy from Italy.

She feels really conffussed about the last one, and wants you to know that all the facts are getting scrambled up in her mind, so you have so come back soon and help her remember.

Meow Meow {That means love you, Santana}, Lord Tubbington.

Santana giggled in spite of herself and she finished the letter. She re-read it, smiling at the very Brittany spelling mistakes. Feeling a leftover weight in the envelope, she turned it upside down and shook it, a shower of photographs spilling out onto the bed.

"Who's that?" Lena appeared behind her suddenly, and Santana shrieked before she realized who it was and went on gathering the pictures.

"That's my girlfriend." Santana admitted, holding up a picture for Lena to see. In it, Brittany stood in front of the eiffel tower with her long hair spilling in loose curls out of an angled black beret. She was cradling Lord Tubbington and holding his paw up in a waving position. The pictures was titled "Me and LT at the effeuilleuse tower."

Santana shook her head affectionately and looked up, half-expecting Lena to share in her joy. But the girl's elfin face was frozen, a frown creased between her thin brows.

Santana started to ask what was wrong, but then she remembered. The song. The performance. The kiss. Oh, god.

"Uh-" Santana began desperately, grasping in her head for the right apology, and at the same time wondering why she felt the need to apologize. This was her, after all. Santana Lopez, who broke guy's hearts like glass. She should be laughing right now and telling Lena not to make such a big deal out of it.

But something about the memory of her hands resting on Lena's delicate waist, something about the wide green eyes that were now regarding her with a mixture of hurt and anger, made her want to say something else, something to make it all right.

"It's okay." Lena's voice was quiet and emotionless, but her eyes were glittering. "I understand."

She laid the photo gently on the bed next to Santana and sat quietly for a moment, staring at the opposite wall. Then she asked, almost involuntarily "What's her name?"

"Brittany." Santana looked down at the picture, not quite able to bring herself to look Lena in the eyes.

"That's a pretty name." Lena said, then added after a moment, in a soft voice, "She's really pretty."

Santana heard the quiver and the question in her voice and answered, "So are you."

Lena shook her head, which was bowed so low that her auburn curls brushed her waist. "I've never really had a girlfriend." She admitted, drawing up her shoulders so that she seemed to shrink into herself even more. "I'm sorry I tried it on with you. I guess I just thought...I don't know what I thought. I was being stupid."

Shame prickled through Santana's body, making her cheeks flush red. She was the one who'd been being dumb, not Lena. She was the one who'd been tucking her letters from Brittany under her pillow, as if she had something to hide. Suddenly she felt like a traitor, to Lena and to Brittany.

"No, you weren't." She said, swallowing hard. "I was being a dick. I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't tell you about Brittany or any of this, and I should have, uhm-I should have told you when you kissed me. I should have stopped. But I didn't, because I like you. You're really pretty, and really nice, and I really do like you, a lot. But I love Brittany. She's my everything."

She looked up appealingly, realizing as the words spilled out of her mouth that she sounded like a Hallmark sorry card, if Hallmark made apology cards for polygamous lesbian teens.

The ghost of a smile passed over Lena's face. "Say that again."

"I'm sorry-"

"No, not that. Say "dick" again."

"Dick."

Lena giggled, then giggled harder, the contained tears spilling over her cheeks as her eyes scrunched up. Santana watched her quizzically for a moment, then started laughing too, burying her face in her hands and dissolving into a fresh fit when she realized how dumb they were acting.

Lena's face was turning red and she was sucking in breaths of air in between spasms of laughter. Her laugh was like chiming bells, which was good, otherwise it would've annoyed the hell out of Santana after the first few minutes. When she'd finally wound down, she smoothed her mussed hair and tossed it back with such put-on elegance that both of them were in stitches again.

"So are we good?" Lena gasped out through residual giggles. She winced and rubbed her stomach. "Ugh. Never make me laugh like that again while I'm on my period."

Santana made a face. "TMI, Len. And yeah, we're good." She paused for moment, then added softly. "Thanks."

Lena brushed an errant strand of hair to the side and laced her fingers through Santana's, holding their hands up to the light. Her pale, almost translucent skin contrasted dramatically with Santana's golden tan.

"We're good." She said after a tiny pause.

Santana knew she was lying. One good laugh can't mend a broken heart. But she was grateful, at least for now, for the lie.


	6. Broken Hearts

Weeks dragged by at a tortuously slow pace. After the high of her enlightenment had worn off, though she still felt a shock of joy every time she remembered it, things still sort of scked for Santana. The only thing she had to look forward to were the letters from Brittany, which were torn open and screened first to make sure none of the content was explicit. Santana was sure the camp would ban the letters entirely if they could, but some law about freedom of speech and censorship forbade it.

Santana's fingers were actually trembling as she re-opened the clumsily sealed evelope, which was postmarked from France. She read out loud in a whisper, a smile forming on her face as she looked at the first letters of Brittany's elaborate, loopy script that she insisted was cursive.

Dear Sannie,

Hey! Remember me! Guess who I am. I'll give you three hints. 1. I'm fluffy. 2. I'm pretty. 3. I love to dance.

That's right! This is Lord Tubbington speaking! I'm wryting this letter because Brittany can't find her pen but she wants you to know that she loves you too. She told me to tell you that she feels lonely without you at home, and she misess getting her sweet lady kisses on with you, and also she hasn't told anyone about you two except Kurt and Mercedes and Quinn and Puck and Mike and Tina and all those other people. She wants to know when you're going to come back home, becuse she can't figure out how to hook her bra in the back and she can't ask anyone else except you or she mite look stupid. She says that it's really cold in France {oh yeah, she also wanted to say that she's in France.} but they have good crossaints and hot chocolate and nice tour guides who look at you funny for some reason when you ask to see the effeuilleuse tower. Also, she wants you to know the facts she's learned so far from the fact calendar that she's using to count down the days you've been away.

1. Fish can cough.

2. If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would have prudooced enouf sound energy to heat one cup of coffee.

3. Cats sleep 16 to 18 hours per day. {Exept not me, I sleep more than that.}

4. Monday is the preffered day for suicyde. )':

5. Finchel isn't actually a bird, it's the name people use for Finn and Rachel. {That one wasn't actualy from the calendar, thouhg.}

{Sorry, she forgot what goes between here.}

123. Noodles aren't actualy from Italy.

She feels really conffussed about the last one, and wants you to know that all the facts are getting scrambled up in her mind, so you have so come back soon and help her remember.

Meow Meow {That means love you, Santana}, Lord Tubbington.

Santana giggled in spite of herself and she finished the letter. She re-read it, smiling at the very Brittany spelling mistakes. Feeling a leftover weight in the envelope, she turned it upside down and shook it, a shower of photographs spilling out onto the bed.

"Who's that?" Lena appeared behind her suddenly, and Santana shrieked before she realized who it was and went on gathering the pictures.

"That's my girlfriend." Santana admitted, holding up a picture for Lena to see. In it, Brittany stood in front of the eiffel tower with her long hair spilling in loose curls out of an angled black beret. She was cradling Lord Tubbington and holding his paw up in a waving position. The pictures was titled "Me and LT at the effeuilleuse tower."

Santana shook her head affetionately and looked up, half-expecting Lena to share in her joy. But the girl's elfin face was frozen, a frown creased between her thin brows.

Santana started to ask what was wrong, but then she remembered. The song. The performance. The kiss. Oh, god.

"Uh-" Santana began desperately, grasping in her head for the right apology, and at the same time wondering why she felt the need to apologize. This was her, after all. Santana Lopez, who broke guy's hearts like glass. She should be laughing right now and telling Lena not to make such a big deal out of it.

But something about the memory of her hands resting on Lena's delicate waist, something about the wide green eyes that were now regarding her with a mixture of hurt and anger, made her want to say something else, something to make it all right.

"It's okay." Lena's voice was quiet and emotionless, but her eyes were glittering. "I understand."

She laid the photo gently on the bed next to Santana and sat quietly for a moment, staring at the opposite wall. Then she asked, almost involuntarily "What's her name?"

"Brittany." Santana looked down at the picture, not quite able to bring herself to look Lena in the eyes.

"That's a pretty name." Lena said, then added after a moment, in a soft voice, "She's really pretty."

Santana heard the quiver and the question in her voice and answered, "So are you."

Lena shook her head, which was bowed so low that her auburn curls brushed her waist. "I've never really had a girlfriend." She admitted, drawing up her shoulders so tht she seemed to shrink into herself even more. "I'm sorry I tried it on with you. I guess I just thought...I don't know what I thought. I was being stupid."

Shame prickled through Santana's body, making her cheeks flush red. She was the one who'd been being dumb, not Lena. She was the one who'd been tucking her letters from Brittany under her pillow, as if she had something to hide. Suddenly she felt like a traitor, to Lena and to Brittany.

"No, you weren't." She said, swallowing hard. "I was being a dick. I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't tell you about Brittany or any of this, and I should have, uhm-I should have told you when you kissed me. I should have stopped. But I didn't, because I like you. You'e really pretty, and really nice, and I really do like you, a lot. But I love Brittany. She's my everything."

She looked up appealingly, realizing as the words spilled out of her mouth that she sounded like a Hallmark sorry card, if Hallmark made apology cards for polygamous lesbian teens.

The ghost of a smile passed over Lena's face. "Say that again."

"I'm sorry-"

"No, not that. Say "dick" again."

"Dick."

Lena giggled, then giggled harder, the contained tears spilling over her cheeks as her eyes scrunched up. Santanna watched her quizzically for a moment, then started laughing too, burying her face in her hands and dissolving into a fresh fit when she realized how dumb they were acting.

Lena's face was turning red and she was sucking in breaths of air in between spasms of laughter. Her laugh was like chiming bells, which was good, otherwise it would've annoyed the hell out of Santana after the first few minutes. When she'd finally wound down, she smoothed her mussed hair and tossed it back with such put-on elegance that both of them were in stitches again.

"So are we good?" Lena gasped out through residual giggles. She winced and rubbed her stomach. "Ugh. Never make me laugh like that again while I'm on my period."

Santana made a face. "TMI, Len. And yeah, we're good." She paused for moment, then added softly. "Thanks."

Lena brushed an errant strand of hair to the side and laced her fingers through Santana's, holding their hands up to the light. Her pale, almost translucent skin contrasted dramatically with Santana's golden tan.

"We're good." She said after a tiny pause.

Santana knew she was lying. One good laugh can't mend a broken heart. But she was grateful, at least for now, for the lie.


	7. Get on the Bus

Santana's head bounced against the window as she stared aimlessly through the glass. She moved her tongue around in her mouth, making the now-flavorless Tootsie Pop clack against her teeth. She turned carefully against the rough leather of the seat and glanced over at Lena. She was sleeping soundly, slumped against Santana's side, her bangs fluttering on her forehead with each outward breath.

Santana reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair off Lena's pale, serene face. The bus went around another bend and Lena slammed up against Santana, hard enough to wake most people. But Santana knew from experience that Lena's sleep was like a living death; nothing could wake her, not even the time Santana knocked her stack of hardcover books onto the ground, hard enough to wake even the girls in the adjacent cabin.

Another sharp bend pushed Lena harder into Santana, and she winced and wiggled to relocate so that most of Lena's featherweight rested against her shoulder instead. Lena muttered something that sounded like "Malfoy" and crinkled her freckled nose.

The overhead speakers crackled with static and then the pleasant, mellow voice of the driver chimed through the bus. "Attention students." Santana groaned. So they'd officially made the transfer from "campers" to "students."

"We'll be disembarking in about five minutes. Please gather your bags and get ready to step off the bus."

Santana poked Lena lightly in the side. No response. She jabbed harder. Nothing. Lena rolled over and slumped over the edge of the seat, hanging up by the seatbelt like a rag doll. Sighing, Santana wrapped her arms around Lena's slim waist and squeezed. Lena's eyes fluttered open slowly, as if the lids were almost too heavy to lift.

"Morning." Santana couldn't help but crack a smile. Lena's marble-blue eyes were always so wide and animated. In response, Lena yawned and stood up, completely ignoring the fact that the bus was still in motion. She smoothed her skirt down, and Santana admired the turquoise blue of the fabric. Lena always had the prettiest dresses, white and blue and purple silks with empire waists, dipping necklines and flattering cuts. The day before the big move, she'd handed Santana all her red clothes, claiming that they didn't suit her at all and clashed with her hair. Normally Santana would have scorned the offer as charity, but the clothes were just too beautiful to turn down.

Today she was wearing a newly acquired, fire-red tank top made of amazingly comfortable, clingy silk, tucked into a pair of crisp white shorts. She'd accessorized with her own red velvet wedges and a gold tennis bracelet, studded with white diamonds. They were definitely the most turned-out girls on the bus. Everyone else was in sweaters and jeans as a concession to the changing weather. A few people had thrown them looks of envy, and they reminded her fondly of walking the halls with Quinn and Brittany as a Cheerio, when she was practically wading through a sea of jealousy. It made her feel good despite herself.

Santana blinked, realizing that the bus was emptying quickly. Lena was nowhere to be seen, and the only people left were a group of kids in the back and a flushed and grinning Bill, who was disentangling himself from the arms of a blond boy Santana didn't recognize. (They were obviously making up for lost time on the blessedly unsupervised bus ride.)

She smirked at him as she grabbed her bag, feeling another pang as she thought about Brittany. She'd managed to avoid recalling the blond all week by constantly distracting herself and throwing herself viciously into her exercise routines every day. Her body was back to her smokin'-hot Cheerios prime now. At least no one could say she was letting herself go.

Swinging her bag over her shoulder, Santana raced down the bus and jumped from the steps, landing hard on her feet. She took a deep breath, smoothed back her hair, and looked up at the place that she'd soon have to call home.


	8. Kiss me on the Dance Floor

The school was kind of like Hogwarts, Santana decided, staring up at the wide ceiling, half-expecting Harry Potter to pop out from behind one of the overstuffed armchairs and _stupefy_ her. Speaking of stupefy…where the fuck was Lena? Santana was for seriously not looking forward to this welcoming ball thing, but it was going to be unbearable if Lena wasn't by her side the whole night. It occurred to Santana that she might have a bit of a personality thing about being alone. Even when she was back in school, she never liked to be alone. She was always with Quinn and the Cheerios, or Brittany, or even Mercedes. Being alone made her feel clumsy and awkward, even though there was no one in the room besides her. She twisted her hands uncomfortably behind her back, hoping that Lena would hurry up and find her way back to the commons room.

As if on cue, the heavy door swung open and crashed against the wall, and Lena waltzed in with a gaggle of girls in tow. They were all in their party best- Santana was wearing a floor-sweeping mermaid-style red satin dress, with matching Louboutins, and her hair was pinned tightly to the side in a braided chignon. Lena had picked out a tailored Grecian gown with a low back, showing off her elegant shoulder blades. Her skin looked like porcelain against the cream of the silk, and her hair trailed in loose, fiery coils down her back. Together the girls formed a giggling, excited, bubbly sea of brightly colored fabric, and despite herself, Santana felt the infectious nature of their happiness lift her spirits a little.

As a group, they swept across the hallway and down a flight of marble stairs. The school was vast and grand; it was nothing like the lockers-and-linoleum of McKinley High. Santana has always complained about the faint but pervasive odor of spaghetti that always lingered in the halls, but now that it was gone, she kind of missed it.

Reeling her thoughts in before they strayed into dangerously homesick grounds, Santana sped up her steps to catch up with the group as they pushed open the doors to the ballroom. She took a deep breath, brushed a gleaming tendril of hair back behind her ear, and followed Iris's bobbing ponytail through the door.

The ballroom was even bigger than the dining hall, which Santana has found pretty hard to navigate without getting lost. The ceiling seemed to be raised several feet higher, and the room was crossed by hundreds of strands of unlit fairie lights. The-Principal? Headmaster?-was standing on a raised stage, holding a microphone. His voice reverberated through the room so loudly that Santana actually stopped to listen. Her heart was racing and her palms were sweating. She was almost as excited as she had been waiting to hear her name announced as Prom Queen, and she wasn't even sure why.

"Attention, students." The principal cleared his throat. "Welcome to the Crown Victoria Private School Orientation Dance." He took a deep breath, then continued "This ball is a time for you to meet new friends and make yourself at home at the school. Now, remember, everyone has to follow the rules…"

As he prattled on about no groping on the dance floor and refreshments are on the table to the far right and blah blah blah, Iris squeezed Santana's arm and whispered "I heard there's going to be a huge surprise later on tonight."

"Uh-huh?" Santana muttered, not quite listening. She was transfixed by the hugeness of it all; the food, the dresses, the laughter and talk. She was starting to feel a bit dazed from it all when suddenly there was a click and all the lights went out. For a moment she panicked, flashing back to the day at camp when she and Lena had gotten in trouble for staging their performance, but then she heard another click and, one by one, all the fairie lights lit up in different colors. Santana's breath caught in her throat. The fairie lights cast dancing, electric fragments of rainbow light across the vast hall, and then the music started. She made a face as the first few boppy beats of _Mr. Saxobeat _bounced through the speakers.

Her dress wasn't quite short enough or tight enough to be an eye-catcher, so Santana let herself copy Iris, stepping when she stepped, moving her arms when she moved, twirling when she twirled. She had to admit, it was a little bit nice not to be the center of attention, for once. She didn't even feel the smallest pang of jealousy as she watched Lena stealing the show further up toward the front of the room. Her dancing skills apparently weren't limited to ballet.

A few more high-energy songs later, Lena glided back through the crowd and over to Santana as the opening notes of _Glad You Came _started to play. Her face was flushed and her hair was disheveled, and if it was possible she looked even more beautiful than usual.

"Dance?" She asked giddily, holding out her arms to Santana.

Santana smiled but shook her head politely. "Girlfriend, remember?"

Lena rolled her eyes. "I'm not asking you to _fuck _me. I'm asking you to dance with me."

Santana raised her eyebrows-as far as she knew, Lena had never dropped an f-bomb before. She was usually the picture of manners and class. Santana took a closer look at Lena's face-sure enough, her eyes were slightly glazed over. She didn't know who couldn't given Lena alcohol, but she was definitely tipsy, if not quite inebriated. There was probably no point in trying to reason with her. Santana sighed and rested her hands on Lena's waist. "One song."

_The sun goes down  
>The stars come out<br>And all that counts  
>Is here and now<br>My universe will never be the same  
>I'm glad you came<em>

They swayed gently to the side, and Lena looked into Santana's eyes with such benevolent radiance that Santana wanted to laugh. As the beat of the song kicked up, she spun Lena out like a top, almost sending her crashing into Sara.

_You cast a spell on me, spell on me  
>You hit me like the sky fell on me, fell on me<br>And I decided you look well on me, well on me  
>So let's go somewhere no-one else can see, you and me<em>

Santana glanced warily up at the stage, but the principal was nowhere to be seen. Besides, the crowd was so thick she doubted anyone would be able to see the two girls dancing in the middle of it.

_Turn the lights out now  
>Now I'll take you by the hand<br>Hand you another drink  
>Drink it if you can<br>Can you spend a little time,  
>Time is slipping away,<br>Away from us so stay,  
>Stay with me I can make,<br>Make you glad you came_

A shifting circle formed around them as they danced separately, everyone moving in time to the beat. Santana couldn't resist showing off a little, doing a couple of the dangerously awesome flips she'd learned in Cheerios, and drawing cheers and whistles from the throng of people milling around them. As the slow chorus started up again, Lena grabbed her and pulled her back to dance slowly again, and the circle dispersed.

Santana lost track of time after that. Song after song after dance after dance blurred into each other. At some point someone had handed her a drink, or maybe a few. All she knew was that know she was slow-dancing with Lena again, and somehow they were pressed up much closer then they had been before.

Santana felt electricity crawl up her spine. She felt like her hair was crackling with the excitement of the moment. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might jump right out of her chest as she turned slowly, her eyes on Lena's face. It seemed as if she was seeing her for the first time; her eyes were slightly different shades, one greener and one bluer. A rosy glow was high in her cheeks, and her eyelashes were impossibly long. A feeling of inevitability settled over Santana, and she realized too late that she never should have consented to the dance in the first place But there was nothing she could do now; no way she could pull away now.

She'd tell herself furiously later that it was Lena who leaned in and not her, but suddenly they were kissing, her hands framing Lena's face. She knew that the principal could probably see them and she didn't care. She didn't care when she glimpsed Iris giving her a knowing smirk, she didn't care when she heard the doors behind her open. She felt like she could go on kissing and being kissed forever.

"Surpri-" The voice stopped suddenly, but it was instantly recognizable. Santana started back and turned around to face the speaker.

Brittany was standing in the doorway, looking heartbreaking in a sky-blue frock, her eyes and mouth open in shock. Before Santana could get a word out, she turned and dashed back through the doors, but not before Santana saw the tears spilling over her cheeks.

"Santana, wait-" Lena started, but Santana was already halfway out the door. Without another word she gathered up her dress and raced down the hallway, out the entrance doors, and into the biting cold night.

Wow, this story is all over the place. Thanks to **wwtggd** for the prompt.

And **lexipuckerman14**, to answer your question, they actually did. The "punishment" comes in the next chapter. Thanks for the review. (;


End file.
